Knight
by myheartisyours0523
Summary: "Hey, remember that time that Rachel's little brother kissed Kurt?" Kurt finds his knight in a very unusual place.
1. Chapter 1

**Set in the Anderberry Universe!**

* * *

><p>Rachel guessed she should have seen it sooner. With her brother's huge, puppy dog eyes and his heart-on-sleeve demeanor, it was just <em>going <em>to happen. He'd always sat next to Kurt when they watched Disney movies, he'd always share his popcorn, he'd always sing along once Kurt started humming. He was funnier, nicer, more enthused whenever she had her friends over.

But she didn't see it until Kurt tripped through her bedroom door sophomore year, his head cocked confusedly to the side and his fist pressed hard against his own lips.

"You're late!' She had said, running the brush through her hair for the ninety-ninth time. Kurt hadn't responded, which wasn't like him at all, so she'd looked up. "What's wrong?"

"Your _baby brother_…Your brother…The one with the…And then…Disney songs and the…Your _brother_—"

"Kurt, please stop babbling. You're wasting good vocal runs on –"

"_Rachel_."

"What? I get it! Blaine likes Disney songs. Despite the fact that I already know this, thank you for informing me of –"

"He _kissed _me."

That was probably the one time she hadn't been able to come up with anything to say. She had stared at him, her eyebrows raised into her hair. After a long moment of silence, of Kurt's chest heaving and Rachel holding her breath, she let out a ear-drum-erupting, blood-curdling, bloody murder scream that resounded through the whole house.

Later, when Kurt had summoned enough strength to walk back down the Berry stairs, he found Rachel sitting on Blaine's chest, screaming at the top of her longs about _boundaries, Blaine! BOUNDARIES _and _Oh my god, you're so DEAD, Blaine, I swear. _

It took both Finn and Kurt's valiant efforts to drag her off him, and another hour to get her to stop yelling. Blaine had snuck out the back door and, a few days later, went back to his boarding school.

Kurt, however, had never lived it down.

* * *

><p>"Hey, remember that time that Rachel's little brother kissed Kurt?"<p>

Kurt chokes on his mocha; Rachel kicks Finn from under the table. Everyone else barely contained their irrepressible sniggering.

"Totally. White boy called me at two in the morning, chattering about his first kiss or what-not." Mercedes tips her Lima Bean cup in his direction and winks when his cheeks flush bright red.

He hugs himself, arms wrapped tightly around his own chest, and snips, "I thought after two years you'd all be over it."

Rachel's apparently the only one who doesn't find this amusing, because Finn and Mercedes share a glance and, after bravely trying to hold it in, start laughing again. The brunette presses her lips into a thin line and averts her eyes from them, chirping quietly, "Let it go. Blaine has."

Kurt sits up a little straighter. "He has?"

"Of course! He's had about three boyfriends since that fateful night, Kurt. Don't be arrogant enough to believe that he'd still like you after all these years."

"What's not to like?" Mercedes pipes over Finn's laughter, rubbing a few circles into Kurt's shoulder as he timidly sips at his coffee. "This boy is a perfect countertenor, not to mention his ass."

Finn stops laughing immediately. "Can we not? That's my _brother_ we're talking about. "

"I second that motion. Meeting adjourned. Time to go home, Finnegan." Kurt stands and pats the Frankenteen brusquely on the head, then leans to press a kiss to Mercedes awaiting cheek.

"Wait!" Rachel throws back her chair spectacularly and grasps the sleeve of Kurt's designer shirt. "I have something to say!"

He rolls his glasz eyes. "What is it?"

"You and your devilishly handsome brother," She pauses to eye Finn hungrily as he clumsily tries to shimmy into his jacket, "are invited to my second annual Glee Club Party! Oh, and you, of course, Mercedes."

Mercedes coughs. "You mean another Rachel-Berry-House-Party-Trainwreck-Extravaganza?"

"What? No. Wait, is that what –"

"We'll be there," Kurt cuts in hastily as Rachel's diva face starts to form on her confused face. He takes one last swig of his coffee and waves a hasty goodbye to a still fuming Rachel.

They make it halfway out the door, chatting quietly about the next song they'd sing in Glee, when Rachel yells after them, "Oh, and Kurt? My brother will be there."

* * *

><p>Kurt doesn't remember exactly what Rachel's brother had said that night, or even if he meant it, but he knows that it had been very sweet. So he really can't help himself from blushing profusely when he rings the Berry doorbell. Finn's already grinning at him and, after seeing his red cheeks, shakes his head.<p>

"Dude, we're not even inside yet and you're blushing!"

"Shut _up_, Finn, I can't help –"

But the door opens and Rachel's smiling widely at them, decked out in possibly uglier dress than the year before. Kurt swallows his words and pushes a responsive smile onto his lips instead, holding out the one bottle of wine that Finn was brave enough to steal from his mother's liquor cabinet. "Happy Train Wreck Extravaganza, Rachel!"

"Wh—"

But he just shimmies past her, slips down the stairs, and takes in the mess that was the New Directions.

Or, the Drunk New directions.

"Kuuuuurt. Holy shit, man. You got so taaaaaaall."

"Thank you, Sam. I'm just going to –"

"The gayby is here! The gayby is here!"

"Santana, good to see you t—"

"Can I read your fortune?"

"Um, I didn't know you knew how to do that, Brittany."

"Of course. I use the Fruit Loops."

"Ohhhkay, well –"

And they take their turns spinning around him, making comments about his current outfit (which, he grins, is rather more toned down than usual) and receives a few hugs and sloppy kisses to his cheek. Eventually, though, they peel away to dance to the music that's vibrating the in the soles of his expensive Italian shoes. Puck puts a drink in his hand and Kurt sips furiously at it as his eyes scan the room for something particular.

Or, more specifically, someone.

But he was the only one that seems to be missing from the train wreck of drunken teenagers, so Kurt downs the last of his drink and takes another from Puck's awaiting hand. Within thirty minutes, he's tripping over his own feet as he tries to sway to an upbeat Top 40 tune.

Rachel's beyond wasted; she's grasping at the front of Finn's shirt and yelling over the music, "Let's make out! Make ouuuut. On the floor! Ooh, that is soo dirty. I'm a baaad girl."

Finn kisses her once and pats her shoulder comfortingly. Kurt shakes his head and twirls again, stumbling a little as he goes. Mercedes catches him around the waist and says into his ear, "Kuuurt. Rachel is _so _wasted."

"And you're not?" He grabs her arm as she loses balance and her drink sloshes over her fingers. She lets out a little unappreciative whine.

"Do _not _make me cut you, white boyyy. Like you're any _better_." She swings him around in a drunken haze and puts her lips close to his ear again. "Blaineybear isn't here."

"So?"

"I was hoping for some hot drama."

"Wait another ten minutes, Brittany and Santana will be making out on the couch."

"_Ugh_." Mercedes tucks her head into Kurt's neck and sighs. "I want _boy _drama."

"Well, too bad."

So they dance and drink and at one point Rachel yells about spin the bottle, but Kurt's too drunk to care so he just kisses anyone that comes close enough to him. Everything's hazy and muffled and _hilarious _and he just _can't stop laughing_.

And then he's trying _so hard _to get up the basement stairs for a reason that he can't even remember anymore. His feet keep slipping and he's holding onto the rail, but it's not very helpful at all.

"Because you're not even holding it."

He'd said that aloud?

"Yes, you did."

Who _was _that?

"Your worst nightmare or your Knight in Shining Armor. You can choose."

"Stop reading my _mind_." There are hands under his armpits, pulling him upward, and then there's an arm under his knees. "Are you _carrying me_?"

"I doubt you'd be able to make it up the rest of the stairs."

"I bet you…I bet you twenty big bucks that I could! Twenty big bucks."

There's the sound of a door opening and closing, and then Kurt's being lowered onto something comfy and warm. The room he'd been carried into his dark, but he feels the weight of someone sitting down beside him. "Twenty big bucks, huh? Can you even fit a dollar bill into those incredibly tight jeans?"

"Probably…Probably not. Probably _not_. Hahaha, they're so tight, you know? I want to take them off. Take them off me, strange person that is a knight!"

"Or your worth nightmare. And I'm not taking your pants off." Kurt throws a hand out randomly and it comes in hard contact with a sculpted jaw. Fingers grab his wrist and pin it to his side; Kurt whines loudly in protest. "Stop flailing around, you're going to hurt me."

"Stop! Don't touch me there! This is my private square! R-a-p-e, keep your hands away from –"

"I'm not going to rape you. I'm trying to _help _you. And I haven't heard that song since Junior High." Kurt tries to sit up, but a hard hand on his chest pushes him back down. "Don't sit up, you might puke."

"Stop! Don't touch me there! This is my private square! You can touch inside the box, if you are a sexy fox!"

"…Well then."

"Not you, mystery person."

"I guessed."

Kurt struggles against the hand and, in a drunken moment of strength, manages it. He reaches up and catches the person's jaw in one hand, the other smacking the stranger twice on the cheek.

At least, he aimed for the cheek.

"Ow. That was my eye, Kurt." Fingers wrap around his wrist again, but they're gentler this time, and they only _kind of _pull his hand back downward.

"_You know my name_."

"Yeah." The voice is amused; Kurt doesn't find that fact amusing at all.

"Are you my stalker?"

"What? No."

"Whooo are youuu?"

"I've told you already."

He doesn't remember that. "I don't remember that."

"Yeah, well…You're drunk."

"Am not."

"You are _wasted_."

"Am not!" There's a heavy sigh and his fingers are being plucked one by one off the knight's (or worst nightmare's) chin. Kurt wiggles closer and breathes in. "You smell really good."

"Thank you."

He removes the last few fingers from the chin and instead grasped at the front of a thin button-down. He drags his stranger forward and presses his nose into a warm, good-smelling neck. "Like, so good."

"Kurt."

"So good."

"Can you stop nuzzling my neck, please?"

"It smells _good._" He stops, though, because the stranger's shifting uncomfortably away from him, and even a drunken-Kurt can tell when someone is discomfited. And then he had the best idea in the whole world. "Hey, wanna play Spin the Bottle?"

"I'm pretty sure you played that quite enough tonight."

"What? Did not."

"You were kissing a lot of people." There's something in the stranger's voice that Kurt can't place; he jumps forward and their heads knock together. "Ow! What are you –"

But his lips are drunkenly, sloppily, carelessly pressing into the stranger's and Kurt swallows the words that had started to be said. It's messy and quick and Kurt giggles in the middle of it. When he falls back, though, he says, "There! I kissed you! Spin the Bottle!"

"That's not how you –"

"I'm going to puke."

"Oh, j—"

He leans over and vomits on the Berry's Persian carpet.

* * *

><p>And wakes up on the Berry couch with a washcloth pressed into his forehead, two aspirin sitting on the arm.<p>

The sunlight streaming through the windows hurts his eyes; he shields them and tries to sit up, but a wave of nausea forces him to lie back down.

There's thumping that had to be feet, but is far too loud to be real. Then, a hand clapped on his shoulder and a far too thunderous, "Kurt! Get up, dude. We have to go home before Rachel's dads do!"

"I'm going to _kill you_ if you try to talk to me again."

"Bad hangover?"

"_What did I just say, Finn?_"

"Okay, geeze."

There are lighter footsteps, and then a glass is being pushed into his hand. "Kurt, take the aspirin. There's coffee in the kitchen, but you both have to get going soon."

"Rachel." He peers out from under his hand and takes in her exhausted features. Sighing, he pulls himself into a sitting position. "I should be mad at you for letting me drink that much, but apparently you were worse."

She shrugs and rubs a pattern into his back, wincing when he swallows the pills dry and cradles his pounding head. "I'm sincerely sorry."

"It's fine."

"I'll go get you some coffee," Finn says hurriedly, big feet thumping across the carpet as he starts toward the kitchen. They both flinch.

Rachel sinks onto the couch beside him and glances around for broken objects. Finding none, she asks, "How did you get up here anyway?"

Kurt stares into his glass. "Someone helped me."

"Who?"

"If I remembered, I would have told you," He snaps, sipping irately at the water. Rachel recoils and presses a hand to her temple. Sighing, Kurt reaches over and pats her knee. "Sorry. I'm bitchy in the morning."

Finn ambles back in, clutching a mug of coffee in both hands like it's liquid gold, and they can't help but smile at his concerned expression. "Here you go, Kurt. Do you want s—"

"Yes, please." It's immediate, because Finn's voice is still _too loud_. They cover their ears until his footsteps fade. "So, you didn't throw up in my dads' bed, did you?"

Kurt sends a discrete glance in the direction of the Berry rug; it's vomit free. "No."

"Good."

Finn's back in a matter of seconds and he's pressing the coffee cup into Rachel's hands and saying quickly, "Time to go, Kurt," and he leaves without ever so much as giving his knight a second thought.

It's later, when he's curled in his dark room, sleeping off the night, when his phone vibrates on his bedstand and he grabs it before it starts playing that one Britney Spears song.

**New Text**

Kurt squints at the screen for a moment and, after a moment of consideration, opens it.

**From Knight/Nightmare: **

**i bet youre sleeping off that awful hangover right now**

_To Knight/Nightmare: _

_You ARE stalking me._

**From: Knight/Nightmare: **

**false. i just put my number in your phone.**

_To Knight/Nightmare:_

_But not your name. Suspicious_.

**From: Knight/Nightmare:**

**i figured youd appreciate the mystery**

_To Knight/Nightmare:_

_Not really._

**From: Knight/Nightmare:**

**i think you doooo.**

_To Knight/Nightmare:_

_I'm not texting you again until you tell me who you are._

**From: Knight/Nightmare:**

**Ttyl. :D**

Kurt makes a face at the screen and tosses it away from him. He'd figure it all out later; now, he just wanted to sleep forever.

* * *

><p><strong>Leave me a review! More to come! <strong>

**Comments? Questions? Concerns? Review.**


	2. Chapter 2

The next time that he's at the Berry house, he's weeding through a sea of red plastic cups, various random articles of clothing, and empty schnapps bottles that the New Directions had left behind. He almost regrets picking up the frantic 911 call from Rachel that morning, but the brunette's chattering about their future and college, so he doesn't really mind that much at all. Plus, Finn's sitting on the stage with an incredibly grumpy expression on his face as Kurt stole all of his girlfriend's attention.

"Can we _please _talk about something other than NYADA?" The Frankenteen wines as Kurt slips a few more bottles into their communal trash bag. Rachel scrubs at her forehead with the back of her hand and sits down beside him, taking his hand in hers.

"It's okay to be sad about your brother leaving, Finn."

"No, that's not what I—"

"It's okay, you don't have to make excuses."

Kurt gives a little snort. "No, that's really not what he meant, Rachel. He's just bored."

She doesn't let it go, though, and she spends the next fifteen minutes explaining the dynamics of siblings that part to go to different ways and how emotionally compromising the separation will be on both of them. Finn tunes out in the first three and Kurt excuses himself in the first five for a pretend bathroom break.

If there was one thing that could be said about the Berrys, it was their impeccable taste in furnishings. Kurt finds himself wandering around the house as Rachel's shrill voice carries up the basements stairs, taking in the wall colors and leather couches and chic wall hangings. His feet and eyes carry him upstairs, into the bathroom, out of the bathroom, down the hallway, past an open door, down the –

But something hits his nostrils and literally stops him in his tracks. It's familiar and delicious and Kurt _knows he's smelled it before._ He can't place it, though, because the musky scent is distracting his hormones and his feet are taking him back to the open door. He takes a step inside and it hits him again; it's like a mixture of hazelnut coffee and something entirely manly and an expensive cologne and Kurt takes another step, glancing around him and breathing in.

There's an unmade bed, but everything else is rather tidy. There's a sky blue bowtie thrown carelessly on top of a nearly empty dresser and a laptop sitting the direct middle of a small oak desk. There are pictures on the wall, but as he gets closer, he doesn't really recognize any of the people in them. They're all in uniforms, almost always have their mouths open in song, and there's a lot of them.

As he gets closer, his eyes are drawn to the obvious soloist in the center. Dark, curly hair, bright hazel eyes, broad, built shoulders. He looks _so familiar _but Kurt can't –

"Wait." He can barely breath.

Because that cannot possibly be the little boy that Kurt knew when he was 16.

That boy was short, nerdy, sloppy, dorky.

The boy in the picture is confident, strong, happy.

Kurt's nose is nearly hitting the glass of the picture, he's so close. He can't seem to draw himself away from it and the little voice in the back of his head is telling him that he's being extremely creepy.

But the boy in the picture…That had to be Blaine Anderson.

"You can take it, if you want."

Kurt jumps back, trips over his own feet, and has to seize the edge of the dresser to keep himself upright. The same curly haired, hazel eyed, broad shouldered boy from the picture is leaning against the door frame, full lips tugged upward into a smile as Kurt tries to regain some type of decorum.

Unfortunately, his mouth did not corporate, and what came out was:

"Um."

"Um?" Blaine echoes, the smirk on his face growing. Kurt sputters unattractively and blushes bright red.

"What?"

"I said you could have it. The picture, I mean. You seemed to be staring at it so curiously, so…" He moves from his spot in the doorway and walks past Kurt, snagging the picture off the wall and holding it out for him. Kurt takes it with shaking fingers and without thinking. "We're called the Warblers, if you were interested."

"I'm not," he blurts out immediately, holding the picture close to his chest in contrast of what his mouth was saying. Blaine sits on the edge of his bed and cocks his head to the side a little, eyes running over Kurt's face.

"Riiight. Why are you up here, anyway? Isn't Rach downstairs cleaning up from that party?"

"I…I got...lost."

"Really." It isn't even a question; Kurt can hear the amusement in his voice and it grounds him a little.

"Yes. I'm going to leave now." He starts to stand, but Blaine catches his arm and before he even knows what's happening, he's pulled into a tight hug that he can't help but reciprocate.

"It's good to see you, Kurt," he says into the shell of his ear, and Kurt concludes that _yes, Blaine had started working out_.

When he's released, though, he makes a beeline for the door without saying anything else. It's when he's back downstairs with Rachel, picking up cups and bottle and various clothes articles, that he remembers where he'd smelt that delicious aroma before.

_"You smell really good."_

_"Thank you."_

_"Like, so good."_

_"Kurt, can you stop nuzzling my neck please?"_

And suddenly, the mystery of his knight wasn't much of a mystery anymore.

"Rachel, how long has Blaine been home?" He asks, his voice a little higher than usual. Finn's decided to help them, but he stops working the second Kurt opens his mouth and gives him a oh-don't-go-there-bad-idea stare that his brother immediately ignores.

"Oh, a few days." She waves her hand around and tosses three cups into their third trash bag. "He's on break right now, I think."

"Hm." It sounds more like a squeal then a hum. "Does he look a lot different or…?"

If Rachel could tell he was incredibly interested or if he already knew the answer to his own question, she doesn't let on. "No, not really. He looks like the same weedy, nerdy kid to me. Be right back, I need a drink."

As soon as she's gone, Finn starts on him.

"Kurt, you aren't seriously still thinking about that kiss are you?" Finn's staring at a pink sequined bra that is hanging on the ceiling fan and therefore misses the obvious flushing in his brother's cheeks.

"No! I was just _wondering, Finn_."

He looks away from the bra and pats Kurt once on the shoulder. "You seemed _really _eager to know, dude."

"Yes, well…I haven't seen him in a few years, Finn. Wouldn't you be curious about the person who kissed you for the first time?"

"No."

"Well…I am, okay?"

He lifts both shoulders in a surrendering shrug. "Fine. Whatever you say."

But he isn't convinced, and he gives Kurt funny looks even when Rachel returns and they continue to chatter about their future.

And when Kurt gets home, he has a new text waiting for him. Before he reads it, though, he edits the contact name.

**From: Blaine**

**u got taller. :)**

_To: Blaine_

_You got creepier. Planning on telling me who you are, stalker?_

**From: Blaine**

**im shy.**

_To: Blaine_

_ I bet I can guess._

**From: Blaine**

**go ahead, gorgeous. **

_To: Blaine_

_Blanderson. A.k.a. kid who kissed me sophomore year._

**From: Blaine**

**…well this is awkward. i take back that gorgeous comment.**

_To: Blaine_

_Rude. _

**From: Blaine**

**i mean you are gorgeous but now its too awkward for me to say that since you know who i am.**

**also, blanderson? really? :( i haven't heard that since ninth grade.**

_To: Blaine _

_Thank you. For helping me, after the party. It was very nice of you._

_And yes, you'll forever be Blanderson to me._

**From: Blaine**

**it was my pleasure. also, i hope i can find a way to change that.**

_To: Blaine_

_Good luck! :D_

He doesn't text back that night, and Kurt figures it's a good thing since he's already blushing.

* * *

><p><strong>Leave me a review! More to come! <strong>

**Comments? Questions? Concerns? Review.**


	3. Chapter 3

It's when he wakes up that he remembers the picture. He stumbles out of bed and accidently kicks his messenger bag; it slides across the floor as the sound of broken glass finds his ears. It snaps him out of his groggy, sleep-induced coma and he pokes curiously around at the numerous notebooks and folders he'd unceremoniously shoved into it. After a few moments of investigation, he retrieves a wooden picture frame, the glass shattered.

"Oh shit," he murmurs as a shard slips between his fingers and shatters on his bedroom floor. Despite the broken glass, though, the picture remained untouched, Blaine's handsome face still staring back at him with that undeniably cute grin playing across his lips.

He feels almost like he should give it back, like the socially acceptable thing to do would be to somehow shove it at Rachel and make up a random excuse about how he found it in his bag when he got home. But his thumb is brushing over the glass and he really loves the frame and it would probably look _awesome _on his bookshelf next to that copy of the Princess Bride. So he puts it there and steps back to admire it, feeling conflictingly proud of himself and creepy at the same time.

But as Finn's thudding steps pound up the stairs and near Kurt's bedroom door, he snatches the picture off his shelf and back into his bag.

* * *

><p>"You know what I figure?"<p>

"Is this something I'm legitimately going to care about, or are you just going to prattle about Star Wars again?"

Finn arches his neck to glance up at him from his place sprayed on the Hummel-Hudson carpet. They're working their way through Season Two of What Not to Wear – which Finn would never admit to actually watching, or liking – and the Frankenteen had just rudely interrupted a particularly dreadful episode. Kurt shifts a little on the couch and smirks a little when he looks hurt.

"That was unjustly mean."

"Did _you _just say unjustly?" He sits upright and then leans back on his palms, brown eyes narrowed at Kurt's face like _you know what you did_. Kurt knows he's not going to say another thing until he apologizes, so he sighs and pauses the show. "Fine. What do you figure, Finn Hudson?"

It's not much of an apology, but Finn tilts his head and assumes that it's as good as he's going to get, so he obliges. "I figure that Blanderson still has a little thing for you."

"I doubt it." It's out of his mouth before he even registers what he's saying; the second he hears it leave his own lips, though, he knows it's true. Finn's eyebrows pull together. "I mean, if I sat on your chest and screamed at you for an arbitrary amount of time, would you still harbor a little boy crush on my best friend after two years?"

"…Probably…not?"

"Not to mention that he's gotten way hotter and has probably kissed way more boys by now. Okay?" He presses play, and Stacy starts ripping the girl apart for her ugly faux pants, but Finn's still staring at him, so he sighs. "What?"

"Why'd you freak out anyway?"

"What?"

"When he kissed you?" The Frankenteen sits back on his heels and scoots a little closer to the couch, chin tilted in Kurt's direction like he's positive that he'll tell the story. Kurt, despite the overwhelming urge to be spiteful, hits the pause button again.

"I'm not really sure," he starts honestly, reaching up to touch his faultless hair. "Put yourself in my shoes; I was some dumb kid just coming to turns with who I was, and this nerdy, hilarious, cute-in-his-own-way boy kisses me out of nowhere? I was so shocked."

He presses his lips together to keep the rest of the words from spilling through them. Finn looks satisfied enough, because he sprawls himself back out on the carpet and makes a clicking motion at the television with his fingers. They don't say much after that, but halfway through the make-over segment of the episode, Finn clears his throat and mumbles, "I still think he likes you a little bit."

Kurt finds himself hoping that he's right.

* * *

><p>"Kurt."<p>

If he had thought that, by some imperceptible, unexplainable, saintly force, he would be able to face Blaine Anderson with a new sense of self-restraint and easy wit, he was very wrong.

Because there he stood on the steps of the Berry-Anderson household in his favorite skinny jeans and holding, palm out, the picture that Blaine had given him, resembling a fish out of water, gasping for oxygen. He feels entirely pathetic as he stands there, because usually, Kurt is _wonderful _with words. But Kurt's positive that the boy looks more attractive then the last time they accidently ran into each other, in his gray sweatpants and tight fitting black v-neck, so it's no wonder he can't find any at all as the boy raises an eyebrow at him.

Thankfully, Blaine's hazel eyes leave his face to instead stare down at the picture clasped in the countertenor's right hand. "Decided you didn't want it?"

Kurt clears his throat awkwardly and manages, "I was…um, surprised by your unexpected appearance and wasn't exactly thinking…correctly. So I've brought it back. As…as an apology for my strange behavior."

"You don't have to apologize. I was just as surprised to see you, actually. It's been a really long time." He's so earnest that Kurt forgets that he was going to make a dramatic exit. As Blaine reaches forward and takes the picture from the countertenor's unsteady hands, the pad of one finger brushes his palm and Kurt swears it tingles.

"Three years," he says over the swarm of emotions, swallowing thickly as Blaine's mouth twitches upward into a tiny smile.

"Yeah. A lot has changed."

"Apparently," he blurts, eyes flicking down to Blaine's built arms, the way the shirt was stretched across his chest, the way the sweatpants clung to his legs. Blaine, despite his obvious attempts to stop it, turns bright red and tears his eyes away from Kurt's face to look down at the picture.

"Wow, you hate me so much that you broke the glass?"

It takes Kurt a few seconds to realize he's joking; the red seeps away from Blaine's cheeks as he smiles brilliantly at the countertenor's palpable discomfort. "I, um, I accidently kicked my bag this morning."

"Well, Rachel's upstairs if you want to go say hi, or—"

"No!" He says it too quickly, too surely, and Blaine lifts his eyebrows interestedly at his expressiveness. "I mean, I just…I saw her yesterday?"

Blaine gives a jerky nod, like he doesn't quite believe the taller boy, and offers, "I'll tell her you dropped b—"

"No!" Kurt internally kicks himself; Blaine just folds his arms over his chest and cocks his head curiously to the side. "It's just…Shedidn'tknowIhadthatpicture."

"So I can't tell her you were here at all?"

Kurt bites at his bottom lip; Blaine's eyes flick subtly down to it. "She…She actually doesn't know we've seen each other yet."

"Right." He meets Kurt's glasz eyes again, but this time he looks disappointed. Kurt inches back down the front steps and pretends not to notice the slightly crestfallen expression etched into his handsome features.

* * *

><p>Blaine closes the door and rests his forehead against it, feeling the coolness of the wood seep into his skin. He feels his heart pounding against his ribs and he feels <em>stupid<em>. Kurt obviously still wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, but his heart and his brain and every other vital organ was telling him that he still _cared about him_. It'd been so long; Blaine thought that he'd gotten over it, gotten over the cute laugh, the tight jeans, the beautiful eyes, the witty comebacks and clever jibes.

But he hadn't.

"What are you _doing_?"

He jumps away from the door and runs a hand through his hair, trying far too hard to act casual. Rachel's standing in the hallway with her hands on her hips, lips pursed in that you're-in-so-much-trouble way. "Nothing."

"What's in your hand?" She asks, brown eyes zeroing in on the frame. Blaine clears his throat and holds it up, showing the broken glass.

"I, uh…I came downstairs to fix this, but I can't find any of the glass. Too bad, oh well."

"Mmhmm."

"Anyway…"

Rachel inspects him with a suspicious glare for another five seconds and then claps her hands together happily. "I've decided on our duet for the Dads tonight. I think we could work Snow Patrol's _Called Out In the Dark _into a fabulous mixture of…"

He flips the tiny switch in his head that enables him to tune her out and turns into the kitchen, setting the picture carefully on the countertop and heading directly for the fridge. Rachel follows him like a little lap dog, chattering about the different octaves he'll have to reach, and doesn't even stop to say thank you when he hands her a bottle of water.

"…That way I won't over power you with my –"

"Hey, Rach?"

"Yes?"

"Does Kurt have a boyfriend?"

She glances suspiciously at him as she untwists the cap on her bottle and doesn't answer the question until she takes a long swig. "No, not right now. Why?"

"I was just wondering. " Lie. "I haven't seen him in such a long time." Lie. "I bet he looks the exact same." Lie.

Rachel shakes her head. "No, he's a lot taller. And he's gotten a lot better looking in my humble opinion. He doesn't believe me."

Blaine did. He doesn't like he's believed anything more in his life. "Oh."

"You're not still thinking about him _in that way_, are you?" She looks concerned, and one perfectly manicured hand comes to rest on his shoulder. Blaine nearly pushes it away, but he swallows the urge and manages to shake his head. "Good, because it's my duty to remind you that Kurt is entirely off limits. Entirely."

"I know."

But he doesn't, not even as Rachel threatens never to speak to him again. He doesn't know, and he doesn't care.

Because Blaine's in love with Kurt Hummel and there's nothing anyone, not even his sister, could do about it.

* * *

><p>Kurt's laying belly down on his bed when the doorbell rings. He flips another page in his magazine and, listening carefully, hears Finn thump around downstairs and pull the front door open with a friendly "Hey!". There's muffled conversation and the sound of the television being turned on, so Kurt brushes a hand through his hair and figures it's Puck or Sam and flips the page.<p>

But then there's the soft padding of feet coming up the stairs and Kurt's ear perk to the sound of them. They sound lost almost, like they're searching for a certain room but have yet to find it. He pushes himself into an acceptable sitting position just as his door opens and a familiar brunette head appears around it.

"Rachel?"

"Kurt! I was hoping you were home!" She prances to the bed and pounces; his arms are full of star potential before he even realizes what's happening. She presses a kiss to his cheek and, after a few seconds of hugging, sits back on her heels. "I have to talk to you immediately."

"Obviously. Isn't it date night?"

"That's exactly my dilemma!"

"Is it?" He reaches over to snatch the magazine before Rachel's black Mary Jane's pushed it over the edge of his bed; the brunette is nodding violently.

"As you know, my brother Blaine is in town," she starts calmly, her fingers twitching over the edge of her plaid skirt nervously, "and also as you know, I have a date with Finn tonight."

He instantly doesn't like the direction that his conversation is leading, so he arches an eyebrow and snips, "Get on with it, Rachel."

"Well, I couldn't leave Blaine alone at home! Both my Dads are out at Scandals and his friends are busy and…Well, he's downstairs." Her hands leave her skirt and grasp at Kurt's, holding them in a death grip as both his eyebrows threaten to disappear into his hair. "Look, I was just hoping you could possibly entertain him tonight. I know things are kind of awkward between you two, but I've informed him many times that you're off limits and…I really just don't want to leave him alone."

Kurt tries not to care that Rachel had apparently, on many accounts, told Blaine that he was unattainable. "I don't know, Rach, I mean –"

"Kurt, _please_. Just this once. I promise, I'll never ask for anything ever again." She widens her eyes and pouts, hands leaving his to press themselves together in a type of ironic prayer; Kurt rolls his glasz eyes and sighs.

"_Fine_. But he'd better not expect me to watch some ridiculously dorky movie."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later, he's curled on the couch as Luke Skywalker fights off a band of Storm Troopers with Blaine lounging comfortably beside him.<p>

Blaine's not even watching the movie; his eyes flicker between the screen and Kurt's face as it contorts with emotion at Luke's desperate attempt to stay alive. He's not entirely sure that it's possible to look pretty when absolutely terrified, but Kurt's angular face is putting up a good argument. Not to mention, his toes were subconsciously stuck under Blaine's thigh, seeking warmth and comfort as the sound of synthetic shooting sounds from the television. He feels entirely defeated by his feelings; he can't even sit beside the older boy without thinking about the cuteness of him.

He moves his eyes from Kurt's face just as the boy glances in his direction. There's a lull in the movie, and the countertenor clears his throat uncomfortably. "So, have you had a good break?"

"So far. I've been spending a lot of time with my Dalton friends, so it's not much different than being at school -" _But I'd rather be spending my time with you "—_I mean, it's been nice - " _But not as nice as this, right now, with you_ "—But I get a little bored."

"Oh." Kurt's presses his lips together sympathetically and moves his toes a little; it tickles Blaine's skin and the taller boy finally realizes where he'd accidently stuck them. Blushing, he folds his legs beneath himself and mumbles, "I guess tonight isn't helping that boredom very much."

"No! You're not boring!" Too quick; Kurt lifts an eyebrow curiously. Blaine backpedals furiously. "I mean…I love this movie."

Kurt nods weakly and sighs a little at the TV. At Blaine's questioning look, he offers, "Finn's made me watch this a million times and it still gets to me."

"Yeah, it's good."

They lapse into silence as the movie plays on, and Blaine can't help his wandering eyes. Kurt notices a few times, but he doesn't seem to care; the edge of his lips pull upward into the tiniest of smiles that kind of makes Blaine want to kiss it.

_Off limits, off limits, off limits, off lim—_

"Hey, Rachel didn't…Rachel didn't say anything about me, did she?"

Blaine nearly chokes on his own spit. "No. She didn't."

"Oh, I just thought maybe she'd said something…"

"Nope."

"Oh. Okay."

There's the silence again, but this time Kurt's not smiling. Blaine swallows and wonders if he feels uncomfortable now, now that he thinks that Rachel never told Blaine that her best friend was totally inaccessible. He hopes that's not the case.

He _really _hopes that's not the case.

"Hey Kurt, do you want to go do something?" He's not sure where that came from, and now Kurt's staring at him like he's suddenly grown a pair of tentacles out of his forehead. He blushes red and drops his eyes to his thumbnail, which had recently become exceedingly interesting, and stumbles over an explanation. "I mean, it would be better than sitting here all night, and you know Finn won't be back until dawn, since my sister's taking advantage of the empty house. We could go downtown to Rain and dance. Not together. I mean, you know, with other people. Other people that we have no connection to whatsoever and will not ever –"

"Okay."

He stops staring at his thumbnail long enough to glance up at the sound of Kurt's breathy reply; the older boy's glasz eyes are trained on his face, excitement lighting up his impish features.

"Okay."

* * *

><p>When Blaine had said they wouldn't be dancing together, Kurt thought maybe he'd just been covering for himself.<p>

But the second they got past the bounces with their extremely shady fake IDs, the shorter boy had made a beeline for the bar, and then for some taller college boy with dark hair and a lip ring. Kurt feels his heart settling somewhere in the pit of his stomach as he watches Blaine's perfect ass grind into the random stranger. He knows he shouldn't feel so hurt, since Blaine's never really given him a reason to think that he was still interested, but somehow he'd expected something different.

He orders a virgin Shirley Temple and sips at it, tearing his eyes away from the dance floor and focusing them carefully on the pink drink. Suddenly, going out was one of the worst ideas he'd ever had.

"Kuuuuurt!" An arm swings around his shoulders, weighing him down, and it takes him a few moments to recognize the slurred voice as Blaine's. "Ohmygodd, he was _such a good dancer_."

"How are you already drunk?" Kurt asks, plucking Blaine's arm away from him and scrunching his nose in distaste when the boy falls onto the stool beside him.

"Vodkaaa." He waves the empty glass around and then slams it down on the bar. "Another, Frank!"

Kurt decides that it probably wasn't an appropriate time to inform Blaine that the bartender's name was, in fact, Daniel. "I feel like one of us is always drunk when we're around each other."

"Last time you didn't even _see me_, Kurtie," Blaine points out, surprisingly perceptive for being as drunk as he was. "You don't ever _see me_. You just waltz on by like you have such _better _things to be doing. 'I'm Kurt Hummel and I have better people to be fucking! Not Blanderson! Ew, he has cooties!'."

Kurt flushes. "Blaine, my voice does not sound like that. And I do _not _think you have cooties."

"Might as well have cooties. At least then there would be a good reason for you to find me unattractive, and not just because I'm apparently as sexual as a _lamp _to you." Kurt stares at him for a little longer than necessary, marine eyes slipping over the chiseled jaw, the loose curls, the tan skin, and then he shakes his head.

"You are _so drunk_, Blaine Anderson."

"Yeaaaah." He swipes at the drink in front of him and downs it. "I wanna daaaaaance."

"Then go!" Kurt waves his land at the dance floor, exasperated to the point of nearly finding it humorous, but Blaine snatches it out of the air with unexpectedly quick reflexes.

"Noooo, I wanna dance with Kurtie HumHum!"

Kurt pulls his hand away and rolls his eyes. "I thought you said something about not dancing with each other."

"Pleasey? Pleasey? Please? Dance with the lamppp, Kurtie. Dance with the unattractive lamp."

He sighs, contemplates various consequences that could come of this, and then grumbles, "Fine, but if you step on my feet, I'm leaving."

Blaine's dancing skills, however, seemed to be completely unaffected by the amount of alcohol he'd consumed and soon Kurt was griping his waist in order to keep his treacherous buttocks from coming in any closer contact with the countertenor's manhood. Blaine was entirely oblivious to Kurt's apparent discomfort; he rotates his hips to the thick bass like they were _made _to do that, and Kurt can feel his resistance disintegrating.

So he shouts an internal _fuck it_, wraps his arms around Blaine's waist, tucks his face into the crook of the boys neck, and dances.

And _jesus, _if that wasn't a mistake.

Because Blaine smells the same, like that delicious mixture of man and sweat and hazelnut coffee, and their bodies are flush, aligned perfectly like puzzle pieces, and Kurt can't help from kissing and sucking at the boy's damp skin to see if it tasted nearly as good as it looked.

As it turns out, it tasted better.

* * *

><p>"We danced."<p>

"I know, Blaine."

"You liked it."

"Says who?"

"Your _erection_."

"Wha-Blaine!"

"Not so much of a lamp anymore, am I?"

"Blaine…"

"Oh, nooooo. I'm still a lamp to you, aren't I? A nonsexual lamp that you don't want to fool around with."

"Please lay down. Your sister will be coming to get you tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Okay. I'll lie down. Because this thing is sooo soft."

"It's a couch."

"Yeaaah."

"Goodnight, Blaine."

"Wait! Wait! Wait! W—"

"_What?"_

"Don't leave."

"Blaine, I need to –"

"Please don't leave." There's a sigh, then a little shuffling, and the couch moves a little as Kurt nudges himself down beside the curled up figure that was Blaine's pathetic self. He almost wants to sing when Kurt's arm wraps protectively around him and, in his drunken state, he mumbles, "You're _so _off limits."

There's a sigh that ruffles his hair and tickles his nose. "So are you."

"The forbidden cake tastes the best."

The tinkling of a laugh meets his ears and then, "Something like that."

And then, with Kurt's coconut smell dancing in his senses and a pair of strong arms wrapped around him, Blaine Anderson fell asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Wahhh, I'm so happy that everyone had such good responses to this story. I'm still a little nervous about it. Thank you for the reviews and the story alerts. You guys have nooo idea how much I appreciate it.<strong>

**Leave me a review! More to come!**

**Comments? Questions? Concerns? Review.**


	4. Chapter 4

Finn creeps into the Hudmel house as quietly as he possibly can. He knows Burt's probably already left for the garage and his mom was most likely singing loudly in the shower, but he creeps anyway. Kurt has always been a hard-ass about getting home before curfew; today would be no exception.

He places his keys on the table near the front door, careful to not make a sound, and begins to remove his shoes in a painfully slow way that would have otherwise driven him crazy. He hangs his jacket on one of the hooks while holding his breath and, letting the air slip through his parted lips, starts to make his slow, silent way through the house.

It's when he passes the living room, eyes trained carefully on the steps, that something in his peripheral vision makes him lean back to look inside again.

And he finds his brother fast asleep, wrapped tightly in Blaine Anderson-Berry's arms.

Thinking quickly – and slightly mischievously – he pulls his phone from his back pocket and quickly snaps a few pictures of them. Grinning and putting his phone away, he leans down and yells, "Kurt! Time to get up! You're going to be late for school!"

Only to have the boy's fist flash out and punch him hard in the chest.

"Ow!"

"It's Sunday, asshole," comes the mumbled reply. But he lifts his glasz eyes, rubbing at them with one hand and trying to push Blaine away with the other. There's a groan and Blaine's cradling his head, legs curling even more tightly into Kurt's, and the Hummel-Hudson brothers exchange an awkward look. Kurt starts to pry Blaine's fingers off the edge of his shirt, but it's nearly impossible. "Some help here, Finn?"

"Right."

He leans down and takes Blaine by his shoulders and carefully sets him into an upright position; there's a moment of panic when he suddenly blanches, but he just shoves his head between his knees and takes a deep breath in. Kurt can't help from rubbing soothing circles into the boy's broad back and Finn can't help from giving him a half-smile that clearly read _oh, you're in such deep shit._

"We didn't do anything, if that's what your idiot expression is suggesting," Kurt snaps, retracting his fingers as his cheeks tinged pink. "We went to that club downtown and this idiot decided to drink six shots of vodka and an apple martini."

Finn pats Blaine's shoulder in a gentle manner, respect obvious on his face. "Damn, dude."

"I might puke."

"Oh, Jesus." Kurt rubs tiredly at his forehead and turns to his brother with a helpless expression. "Could you go get a bowl, Finn? I don't think Carol would appreciate puke all over her Persian rug."

Once Finn ambles away, Kurt's fingers twitch back to their place on Blaine's spine like magnets and he can't help but stare at the way Blaine's eyelashes nearly reach his cheeks as his downcast eyes close, pushing back the feeling of immense nausea. They just sit there like that, with Kurt rubbing circles into his back and Blaine with his forehead resting in his palms. It only takes a few moments for the awkwardness to set it.

"Did I…Did I say something about being as sexual as a light?" Blaine looks up at him through his fingers, his cheeks already flushing pink from embarrassment. Kurt bites on his lip to keep from smiling.

"A lamp, to be precise."

"_God_, I say such stupid things when I'm drunk."

Kurt retracts his fingers and folds his hands in his lap, feeling only a little bit crushed. Blaine doesn't seem to notice and that kind of hurts too, but he tells himself that sniping, "I _do_ stupid things when I'm drunk, so your affliction is probably better" didn't have anything to do with it.

At all.

Blaine's honey eyes trace his face, searching for something between his tightly sown lips and cold glasz irises. Kurt decides he doesn't find it, because he looks down at his feet and there's a short laugh that's too weak to be authentic. "Yeah, that spin-the-bottle kiss was pretty dumb."

"I—"

He's not really sure what he would have said, or what he was even thinking of except for the hurt flashing across Blaine's face and the undeniable _need _to make it go away, but Finn ambles into the room and grandly shoves a bowl into the short boy's lap with a, "Here you go, dude! Puke away!"

"Um."Blaine stares into the empty bowl and, after a moment of deliberation, looks up at the Frankenteen with a smile. "Thanks, Finn, but I think the nausea's pretty much gone. Do you guys think I could use your shower really quickly before Rachel turns up?"

Kurt gives a short nod and Blaine hands him the bowl that he takes with uneasy fingers.

Finn barely waits until he's rounded the corner before he rounds on Kurt. "Rachel's _little brother_, Kurt? Really? You have the most inappropriate crushes _ever_, I swear! You guys didn't have sex on the couch, did you? Tell me you didn't, because I'll never be able to watch football a—"

But Kurt's holding up a hand. "First of all, I _do not_ have a crush on Blaine."

"Yeah, _ohhkay_."

"I don't, Finn, and I'm going to punch you again if you don't stop insinuating it."

"Fine!"

"Secondly, we didn't have sex on the couch because _I'm not interested _in him."

Finn clearly doesn't believe him, but he nods and takes the bowl out of Kurt's fingers, disappearing into the kitchen to return it.

Kurt realizes, perched on the couch, that he doesn't exactly believe himself either.

He also doesn't hear the soft, dejected pair of feet move from the doorway and start up the stairs.

* * *

><p>Kurt tries to open the bathroom door just as Blaine's trying to exit it, and the result is a muffled yell, a unsettling crunch and Blaine doubled over, holding his nose in his hand. The taller boy freezes in the doorway. "Oh, shit! I'm sorry! I just wanted to know if you were done yet and…Um, did I just – Oh, god, is it –"<p>

"Ow." There's red slipping through his fingers and Kurt's nimble fingers snatch the black cashmere scarf hanging on the back of the door. He cups the back of Blaine's neck and presses the shorter boy's fingers away from his face.

"I'm so, so sorry. I didn't see you. I just…" Kurt dabs carefully at the tiny trickle of blood on Blaine's top lip, trying not to notice his hazel eyes, huge and intense. So instead of looking into the boy's face, he looks down…

And finds a broad, bare chest.

"Oh."

His hand slackens at sight of the tan skin, and he unconsciously stops dabbing. Blaine reaches up and takes the scarf from him.

"I thought you were…"

"Dressed?" Blaine's amused tone makes him glance up. "I am. Well, mostly."

He hands Kurt the scarf and leans over to pick up the white tee shirt – which he apparently dropped when Kurt had attacked him with the door – and pulls it over his head. "Voila."

"Better." Kurt's mouth quirks a little and Blaine smiles back, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. When he abruptly turns away, tearing his hazel orbs from Kurt's face in order to use the mirror to comb his fingers through his hair, the countertenor sets himself on the edge of the counter and clears his throat. "How's your nose?"

Blaine reaches up and touches it; he winces, but it's stopped bleeding. "I think I'll live."

"So, um. Last night was –"

But Blaine's meeting his eyes in the mirror and something in his expression is telling Kurt to _please, just stop talking before you say something you're going to regret._ Kurt's mouth, however, decided in that moment to spew everything that was buzzing through his head.

"You're a really good dancer. I mean, not in a creepy way. In a normal way. And I'm sorry that I acted the way I did before and…after, I guess, but I just didn't really know – I mean, I don't regret dancing with you or anything, but it's not exactly acceptable because you're Rachel's brother and _so _out of bounds or whatever, so I just –"

Blaine surges forward, hazel eyes huge and intense and Kurt almost thinks they're going to kiss. But Blaine just presses the palm of his hand against Kurt's mouth and says gently, "_Please_ stop talking."

"Mmmff."

"I understand, don't worry about it, won't happen again."

And then his hand is gone, along with the smell of his skin, and Kurt sighs in relief. There's something cold, though, in Blaine's expression. Something disappointed and hurt and _betrayed _and Kurt tries to play it off by chirping "Awesome!", as though it would make him feel better.

It doesn't, because Blaine just lifts an eyebrow and goes back to combing his hair with his fingers.

"I'll just…I'll be downstairs if you…If you want a ride home or…something."

There's a noncommittal grunt and the shorter boy his smoothing down his tee shirt, so Kurt takes this as his cue to leave.

Of course, he doesn't notice when Blaine slips the scarf into his back pocket.

* * *

><p>Rachel's combing her hair in the mirror when Blaine slips through the door without knocking and spread-eagles across her bed, a little groan of exhaustion and comfort escaping through his parted lips.<p>

"Do I have to explain the concept of knocking again, Blaine? I honestly could have been naked or something, and we both know how scarring that would be for –"

"I'm in love with Kurt."

There's a silence then, thick and uncomfortable, while Rachel stares at her brother through her mirror and Blaine lifts himself into a sitting position, the expression on his face vulnerable and pitiable. He tries to read her eyes, to see what wheels were turning under that long brown hair, but she remains expressionless and cold until, finally, she seems to shock herself into thought again.

She puts down her brush and avoids his eyes, smoothing the pleats in her skirt like it actually mattered and clearing her suddenly clogged throat. "You are…in love with my best friend."

"Yes." He looks conflicted suddenly, as though his head and his heart were screaming two different things, and he blunders forward without contemplating his words. "I mean…I think I am. I don't know. It feels like it, but it could just be something – But I think I am, Rach. He's so…He's beautiful and clever and he makes me laugh and I know we could be happy, maybe, if he gave me a chance. I was just wondering if you knew…I mean, I heard him talking about me this morning and he said he wasn't interested, but it didn't seem all that sincere, so I was just—"

"Blaine, this is not a good idea." His jaw snaps closed as though she'd hit him; Rachel crosses the room and takes his hands tightly in hers. "Kurt's complicated. I don't think you know him quite as well as you think. He has a past and it's not exactly rainbows and unicorns. He deserves the best of the best, Blaine, and frankly…I don't know if you can be that for him. Plus, all the other boys you've liked aren't anything like Kurt! He's not exactly your type, is he?"

Blaine swallows. He can hear the blood rushing past his ears and all he can do is nod. Rachel babbles a little bit more about Blaine's past, meaningless endeavors; he tunes in when she says, "…promise me that you won't get involved with Kurt. Promise."

He feels frozen, numb, and betrayed. He wants to kick and scream and tell her that she's wrong, that he could make Kurt happy, but he finds himself doubting it.

Doubting it and murmuring, "I promise."

Later, Blaine decides it's _stupid _what he's doing to himself. He's setting himself up for failure. He's setting himself up for heartbreak, and he just _refused_. Because Kurt was always going to see him as a little kid, as the nerd that kissed him when they were young, as Rachel's little brother and nothing more. Kurt was going to date older men, taller men, better men, and Blaine would probably find someone else to fill the little hole he felt pulsing in his heart.

The thing was, when he thought about it, he really didn't want anyone _but Kurt_. When he thought about the future, Kurt was always a part of it.

_"I'm not interested in him."_

It nearly echoed.

* * *

><p>"You look like you could use some company."<p>

Blaine looks up from his coffee and meets a pair of green eyes and a confident smirk. "Do I?"

"Definitely."

Blaine thinks about Kurt, about being alone, about harboring a crush on someone for so long. He can feel the Kurt's scarf in the breast pocket of his jacket, pressing against his heart.

"I don't think I'd be opposed to that."

Green-Eyes holds out a hand. "I'm Sebastian."

"Blaine."

* * *

><p><strong>I appreciate everyone who reviewed last update. You guys are officially my favorite people ever.<strong>

**Leave me a review! More to come!**

**Comments? Questions? Concerns? Review.**


	5. Chapter 5

It's a little too cold in the Lima Bean for Kurt's taste; he turns the collar of his new Prada jacket up over the pale skin of his neck and smoothes down the triple-breasted front. He's waiting on his usually nonfat mocha alone, pretending to text on his phone as to avoid the I'm-a-loner vibe that he would have given off if not for the whole I'm-actually-just-looking-through-my-pictures thing.

He flicks past a picture of Mercedes kissing his cheek as a familiar chuckle meets his ear. When he glances in the general direction of the sound, he catches a full-body laugh coming to a very handsome end on Blaine Anderson-Berry's face.

A full-body laugh that seemed to have been instigated by two identically dressed boys.

Kurt rips his eyes away from them as Blaine happens to glance toward the coffee bar and flicks a little faster through his pictures. He's just about to pretend to place a fake call when there's a, "Hey, you! With the triple-breasted fancy coat!" and he forces himself to feign surprise as one of the prep-school boys waves friendlily at him, gesturing for him to join them.

Kurt considers making an excuse, or just pretending not to see him, but now the Asian boy's smiling at him, too, so he takes his mocha and strides toward the trio with slight apprehension.

When he glances at Blaine, the curly haired boy is hiding behind one of his hands.

The boy with chocolate skin speaks first. "Hey, I'm David. You must be Kurt."

"Hi." He puts his phone into his pocket and takes another sneak peek at Blaine; he's hiding behind his coffee cup now, but Kurt can almost see a blush starting to creep up his neck. "You're friends of Blaine's?"

"We're his best friends, and we're all in the Warblers together." The other states seriously, holding out his hand. "Wes. We've heard a lot about you, Kurt."

David pushes the chair next to Blaine out with his foot; Kurt drops into it without hesitation and cocks an eyebrow. "Have you?"

"No, they haven't." The shorter boy finally surfaces from his attempted hiding spot. Wes and David exchange looks.

"He speaks! Good morning to you too, Anderson." Kurt rolls his eyes at the dirty look he receives.

"We have! We heard about your…_history_." The tips of Wes's fingers press together in a triangle, the start of a smile starting on his lips. There's a scuffle under the table and the Warbler hisses in pain. David disappears long enough to shoot a curious look at their feet. "He's still very embarrassed about it."

Kurt meets Blaine's honey eyes; they're helpless. He looks down at his coffee. "We were both really young. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Well, he happens to still –"

"_David._"

Blaine's dangerous, warning tone and the silence that follows is Kurt's immediate cue to leave. He presses his lips together and holds out his hand to Wes, who shakes it firmly, then to David, who forces him to fist-bump, while saying, "It was very nice to meet both of you, but I really should be going. Blaine…I'll…I guess I'll see you later."

"Bye, Kurt."

* * *

><p>"Sooo…he seems <em>nice.<em>"

"Screw you both."

"Seriously, Blaine, I can see the appeal. He seems nice. And smart."

"I _do not _like Kurt anymore."

"Who are you trying to convince? Us or yourself?"

"I—It's not—We're _friends_. He's best friends with _my sister_, Wes. I don't—It's not like that, okay? Not anymore."

"Right."

"That's why you're thinking about how nice his ass looked in those extremely tight skinny pants."

"I—"

"Don't deny it."

"I wasn't—"

"Don't. Deny. It."

"I got someone's number."

"Oh?"

"Was it Kurt's?"

"Wha-No!"

"Because you already have that."

"I—just shut up."

* * *

><p>Finn's taking his time tromping up the Berry stairs. He likes looking at Rachel's chubby baby cheeks in the family portraits that line the walls, and he assumes Rachel doesn't mind since she walways points them out as they go up. On this particularly occasion, though, he's alone because Kurt opted to stay down in the kitchen to talk to one of the Anderson-Berry dads, and he lingers a little to stare at a picture of the two children in the bathtub.<p>

Was is possible to be jealous of your girlfriend's gay brother?

He moves a little farther up the stairs, knowing that Rachel was probably getting impatient with him, and turns down the hallway.

Only to find her with her ear pressed against the oak of Blaine's bedroom door, listening intently to the soft murmuring on the other side.

"R—"

But she hushes him quickly and beckons him forward.

"What are you doing?" He whispers, taking her hand gentle in his and pulling her toward her own bedroom.

"Listening to Blaine's phone conversation," She chirps casually, like it's the most normal thing in the world. "I think he finally listened to me! It sounds like he got someone else's phone number and has given up on his less-than-platonic feelings for Kurt."

She throws herself onto her bed with a happy hum. Finn sets himself on the edge with a hesitant smile. "Um…what did you tell him?"

"The truth! That Kurt's not interested and he obviously needs a more experienced, older boyfriend that would be able to satisfy his –"

"And you don't think Blaine could do that?" He interrupts without thinking, biting at the inside of his lip.

Rachel gapes at him for a moment and then sputters, "It's not about what _I _think, it's about what's best for Kurt in his current situation and how I feel about my _brother_ dating my best friend. It has nothing to do with how good of a boyfriend Blaine would—"

"Rachel, I d—"

"Finn." Her voice is low and dangerous; he knows the conversation is over. "I do not and will not have Blaine and Kurt macking on each other or having sex or even _liking _each other as long as I am best friends with our fashionable countertenor. That is the end of this—"

"Finn? Rachel?" A perfectly coiffed head peeks into the room, followed by the rest of his lithe body when he's sure that they aren't making out. "Are you ready to go yet? We're going to be late for the movie if you don't hurry up."

Rachel stands and smoothes down her skirt. "Of course! Could you peek into Blaine's room and see if he's ready? I invited him along. I hope that isn't a problem."

"N-not at all." But his face says differently. Finn feels a rush of sympathy run through him like a bus. "I just go…do that."

* * *

><p>By <em>I invited Blaine<em>, Rachel had meant _I invited Blaine and his slimy looking date_. Finn's driving and holding Rachel's hand across the center console at the same time, leaving the other three boys smashed into each other in the backseat. Kurt shifts uncomfortably, the length of his thigh pressed against Blaine's more muscular one as Sebastian Smyth chats about singing and playing lacrosse and a bunch of other sickeningly perfect things that make Kurt want to puke.

Satisfyingly, Blaine looks nearly as uncomfortable as Kurt feels. He smiles whenever Sebastian looks to him and he even comments a few times at his grudgingly interesting stories, but his knee is bouncing up and down nervously and every now and then, a canine would sneak out and bite at his puffy bottom lip, turning the skin there white.

As Blaine's knee becomes increasingly annoying, Kurt's hand shoots out and holds it still.

The warmth of Blaine's skin seeps through his jeans and into Kurt's palm; their eyes meet and in such close proximity, Kurt can feel the Warbler's short breathes ghosting over his lips.

And then Sebastian's asking him a question and Blaine's knee is back to bouncing and Kurt has to sit on his hands to keep from reaching out again.

"…ackground, Kurt?"

Kurt's eyes flick to Sebastian's cold green eyes. "Um…what?"

"I said, do you get a lot of solos in Glee Club or do you just dance around in the background?" There's something condescending in his tone, and it doesn't sit well with Kurt or Finn apparently, who shoots a dirty look over his shoulder.

"He's a really good singer!" Blaine supplies enthusiastically. Kurt stares at him in surprise. "I mean, he can hit these really high notes that no one else can. The Warblers could really use a counter—"

"I think the Warblers are fine." Sebastian sniffs, lifting his nose into the air.

Kurt opens his mouth to retort, to quip starkly back at his meerkat face, but Rachel claps her hands and chirps, "We've arrived, gentlemen!"

* * *

><p>Blaine honestly doesn't think he's ever been in a more awkward situation then the one he was forced into a few seconds ago. He's sitting in a dark theater, pretending to watch a super hero save the damsel in distress, with Sebastian on his left and Kurt on his right.<p>

And with Sebastian's wandering hands, moving from his knee to _up, up, up _before Blaine shoves it back down again, it's the most awkward situation he's been in.

Ever.

Because Kurt's noticing the wandering hand and he obviously doesn't like it because his lips are pursed and his fingers are clenched around the armrest like it's personally offended him. Blaine toys with the idea that Kurt _might_ be jealous and, just to check, lets Sebastian lean over and start to nip at his neck.

This just fuels Blaine's hunch, because Kurt shoots a look in their direction and promptly looks away, hugging himself and shifting as far away from them as he could in their proximity.

After a few seconds of Sebastian's slimy mouth on his skin, Blaine starts to get annoyed and Kurt's standing up, whispering something about the bathroom and shuffling down the aisle. Blaine, seizing the moment and giving into temptation, pushes Sebastian away gently and follows.

Kurt's not even in the bathroom when Blaine strides into the lobby.

He's standing near the front door, hand scrubbing at his forehead as he shakes his coiffed hair, and as Blaine gets closer he can hear the countertenor murmuring, "Stop. It's not a big deal. You shouldn't care that much. Stop. S—"

"Kurt?"

His glasz eyes flash toward Blaine's face and he lets out the longest, most exhausted sigh. "_What?_"

"Are you-?"

"Why don't you just go back inside, Blaine? I'm perfectly _fine_. I'm having _such_ a good time, watching you and that slimy—"He catches himself, swallowing thickly, and inhales. Blaine's heart jumps into his throat, but Kurt's regained control himself again and he just looks tired. "Just go back in the theater. I just…I need some fresh air."

Blaine takes a step closer to him. "Kurt, I don't…It's not really like that."

"It's fine."

"I don't even like him that much."

"Why not?" The fire is back in his eyes. "What's wrong with him? He's handsome and smart and –"

"He's not my type."

"I don't really care."

"If you didn't care, you wouldn't have—"

"Go back in the –"

But Blaine rushes forward, takes Kurt's face in both his hands, thumbs smoothing over his jaw line, and whispers, "I _don't_ like Sebastian, Kurt_."_

But then Kurt's holding him by the front of his cardigan, both fists clutching the fabric. They are so close that their noses bump and Blaine can count every single eyelash that frame Kurt's intense eyes.

"Blaine." It sounds hot, that one syllable word, rolled carefully off Kurt's tongue. Blaine feels goosebumps erupt on his skin and he can feel Kurt's warm breath ghost across his lips. "If I see him touch you again, I think I'm going to have to hurt something."

And then, they're kissing. It's hot and vigorous and Blaine's been craving it since he was small and it's so _right _that he just can't bare the idea of it ending.

It does, though, and Kurt's forehead is pressed against his, breathes coming out in gasps.

"I don't know how to stop liking you." Blaine breathes, fingers moving over Kurt's flawless skin.

"Then don't."

* * *

><p><strong>Enjoy the fluffiness while you can. Soon to become way more complicated, so be ready for that. :D<strong>

**THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS YOU WONDERFUL PEOPLE. **

**Leave me a review! More to come!**

**Comments? Questions? Concerns? Review.**


	6. Chapter 6

They don't go back into the movie theater. Blaine takes his hand gently, as if he isn't entirely sure that he's allowed to hold it in the first place, and pulls him outside into the warm summer air. It brushes against his skin and fills his senses; somehow, it clears his head, just enough to make his pulse race at the realization that _he'd just kissed Rachel's little brother._

The sun is disappearing, but they don't mind. Blaine's fingers are wrapped a little more firmly around his now and he's pulling Kurt in what seems like an arbitrary direction. It' when they come across a set of swings, placed strategically in a small pit of mulch, that he realizes it probably wasn't arbitrary at all. Blaine's hand disappears long enough to achieve dropping themselves into the thin leather seats. The shorter boy kicks a little, but pumps less and less when he realizes that Kurt isn't moving.

"We can't tell Rachel," the countertenor blurts out suddenly, knuckles turning white from clutching the chain of the swing too tightly. Blaine sticks his toe deep in the sand to half his slow sway and, after a moment of his eyes burning into the side of Kurt's face, clears his throat.

"Look, I understand that I'm younger than you, but I don't think you have anything to be _ashamed _of, unless you find me unattractive or –"

"God, no."

"Um. What?"

Kurt's fingers leave the swing's chain long enough to cover his mouth, a blush creeping up his neck and filling his cheeks. "I just…You're beaut—I'm not ashamed."

They stare at each other for a second, Blaine's full lips pulled upward into the largest, brightest smile that takes Kurt's breath away. Then he looks away, swallowing and staring up into the clear sky.

"Whatever this is, Blaine, Rachel can't know about it."

"Okay." He reaches over and, after some hesitation, takes Kurt's hand lightly from the chain and holds it fast. "Want to know a secret?"

"Sure."

"I've liked you since the fifth grade."

It's Kurt's turn to smile brilliantly, to seize the breath right out of Blaine's chest with his dazzling marine eyes. He squeezes Blaine's hand, thumb smoothing over his knuckles, and bargains, "I'm sure that had something to do with that fact that I was the only…_fabulous _boy you knew at that point."

But Blaine shakes his head. "It didn't have anything to do with that. I just…As I got to know you, I admired you and respected you and _wanted _you."

There's a little sharp intake of breath and Kurt's cheeks are aflame again; Blaine backpedals furiously.

"Not like that. I mean, like_ that_, but I also wanted to just hold you and listen to you and have your undivided attention and just…I just wanted to be your hero." It comes out corny and weak and Kurt's staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. "Because you were mine."

"I was?"

"Of course. You were strong and proud. Everything I wanted to be, so you were my hero." He swallows and tears his eyes away from Kurt's face, staring up at the sky as the last of the golden sun disappears behind the city. "You still are."

There's the shuffle of Kurt's feet on the gravel below him and Blaine looks over just in time to catch a searing kiss, placed strategically against his lips. It's soft and slow, but Blaine still feels a zip of electricity travel down his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, making his fingers release the chain and rest on Kurt's defined jaw, breathing him in. When Kurt starts to move away, just a little, Blaine grabs the chain of his swing and drags him back, nipping playful at his bottom lip until the boy grins into his mouth.

"You can't be real." It's mumbled and muffled and Blaine nearly misses it. But he doesn't, so he pulls away to rest his forehead against Kurt's, honey eyes connecting instantly with teal. The countertenor's cheeks are red; his fingers reach up to run lightly through his hair, sighing when they slide through without the confinement of product. "I mean, I know you're real. I think I know. But you're just so...I don't know. Everything. You're everything."

To Blaine, that kind of sounded like a promise.

* * *

><p>They tell Rachel that Kurt needed help with calculus. It wouldn't take long, Blaine had reasoned, since he was so good at it and Kurt was a fast learner. In the end, she hadn't given it a second thought, because the idea of being alone with Finn in the living room was distracting her immensely.<p>

But when Kurt's shoulder blades are pressed against the inside of Blaine's bedroom door, and the short boy has _every inch of his body_ aligned into Kurt's, and was biting and nipping and _sucking _at his neck, Kurt forgets all about calculus. All about everything except for Blaine's lips ghosting over his skin, of his fingers pressing hard into the taller boy's hip bones, of his gasped, "You're so beautiful."

He pulls him up for a electrifying kiss that shatters every nerve in Blaine's entire body when –

"Kurt? _Kurt_, come watch Hairspray with me, please? Stop working so hard!"

There's a little bang on the wood behind the countertenor; they both jump. Kurt has the good sense to jump up and wrap his legs tightly around Blaine's waist, holding him in place as he jerks back, surprised. Kurt presses his finger against the boy's swelling lips, grinning when he mouths at it adorably.

"Rach, I'll be there in a sec. There's just a _really _hard problem we're going over right now."

Blaine smiles and promptly moves his talented mouth to Kurt's collarbone, pulling the neck of his shirt as far down as it stretched to lick and nip at the soft skin there.

"Can I-?"

"N-no!" His voice wavers when Blaine's fingers move up his shirt, smoothing over his ribs, and his mouth sucks at a particular sensitive spot near his Adam's Apple. "I'll—I'll be out in a minute!"

It's when her feet are tapping away from them that Blaine finally stops, pressing their forehead together. Kurt kisses him, soft and slow, tasting the salt from his own skin there, and murmurs into his lips, "We have to go entertain her."

The Warbler hides his curly head in the crook of Kurt's neck, breathing him in. "I don't want to let you go."

It makes Kurt's heart flutter dangerously; he can't stop the smile from creeping onto his lips.

When Blaine kisses him, he probably tastes it.

* * *

><p>"There you are!" Rachel squeals happily when Kurt finally ushers himself into the living room, closely followed by a ruffled looking Blaine. "I decided not to wait on you, but it's barely started. You haven't even missed <em>I Can Hear the Bells<em>! Honestly, it's the best song in the entire production. She shows such raw emotion for Link while at the same time conveying—"

"—Incredibly silly schoolgirl ideals." Kurt and Blaine finish together. They look at each other in surprise and, after Rachel's annoyed huffing, break into wide smiles.

"Just sit down, both of you."

So they do, and Rachel starts babbling about the costumes and set and Kurt can tell that it's going to be a _long _movie.

Until Blaine slides his fingers into his, holding them tight as his thumb brushes over the surface of his hand. It's the simple gesture, the softness of his hold and the tiny smirk that appears on Blaine's face when Kurt sneaks a look at him, that makes the movie – and Rachel – so much more bearable.

* * *

><p>Finn peers into Kurt's bedroom hesitantly; his big feet shuffle ever so carefully on the threshold. Kurt must have heard him, because there's a sigh and, "Just come in, Finn, I know you're out there. You're about as quiet as an elephant," and when he pauses, his brother's face appears in the little crack in the door.<p>

"Come on, you big doofus."

There isn't really any time to feel embarrassed because Kurt flops, face-down, onto his bed. "Are you okay?"

"Mffine."

"What?"

He lifts his chin up long enough to blurt, "I said, I'm fine! Did you come in here for a reason or did you get bored of Call of Duty again?"

"Um, I just have a question." Finn pokes at a random piece of clothing that's stationary on Kurt's ironing board; the fabric is so soft that he can't bring himself to stop poking it. "About Blaine."

That definitely gets Kurt's attention because he sits up so straight that his back cracks. "What about him?"

And this was where it was going to get uncomfortable. Finn stops poking the fabric and sets himself on the edge of the bed, looking entirely awkward. "Um, well…you don't like…like him, do you?"

"What? No? Absolutely not. No. "

"Kurt—"

"No way. Just no. That would be…That's so awkward. Finn, you're killing me. Really, that's –"

"Kurt."

"No."

"Kurt, you're making the lying face."

"I don't have a –"

Finn points a finger at his face, which was considerably red, and affirms, "You get all red and squinty."

Kurt opens his mouth to argue and finds absolutely nothing to say, so he fans himself with one hand and grapples at his phone with the other.

"Kurt, look, dude; you're my brother and stuff, but Rachel's my girlfriend and she told me to tell you to back off her brother." The brothers stare at each other and Finn reads the sudden betrayal in his eyes, so he's quick to add, "But I think she's wrong."

Kurt hugs a pillow to his chest, chin resting on the fluff that threatens to suffocate him, and wets his lips nervously. "You do?"

"Yeah." The Frankenteen twists his mouth awkwardly, trying to find the right words. "I just think…In a place where a lot of people don't understand you, she shouldn't try to get rid of the one person who does. You know?"

There's a silence and it's long, but Kurt's staring at him with such affection and pride that Finn thinks it's probably a good type of silence, the type that means that the countertenor is just…_speechless. _So he opens his arms invitingly and Kurt throws his pillow aside, launching himself into his brother's arms and squeezing tight. He pats Kurt's left shoulder blade gently and pulls away.

"Just, if Rachel asks, tell her that I interrogated you and stuff, okay? As much as I want you to be happy, dude, I love Rachel."

Kurt promises and Finn leaves, suddenly feeling entirely proud of himself.

* * *

><p>"So, it's secret."<p>

Even over the phone, Kurt can hear Blaine's distaste. His mouth is probably downturned into a thick frown, one cheek resting against the heel of his hand. Kurt sighs. "It's not that I'm ashamed of you. You know that. It's just…Rachel."

"I just don't get why she's so problematic. We're together. What can she do about it?" There's a little bit of interference on the other line as Blaine flops onto his stomach, balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder as he cuddles with his pillow. Kurt's thought about this. He's thought about all the disappointment Rachel's been faced with, all the betrayal and hurt and confusion. So he has an answer ready.

"Rachel hasn't exactly had it easy. I know you know that already, but…People are mean to her, betray her, pretend to be her friend with another agenda. I'm not about to become one of them. Are you?"

"If it means I get to have you."

There's a pause s Kurt feels the butterflies dance around the walls of his stomach. He swallows, pushing back the urge to shout from the mountain tops that he'll be Blaine's forever, if he'll have him, and says, "You already do."

* * *

><p><strong>THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS YOU WONDERFUL PEOPLE.<strong>

**Leave me a review! More to come!**

**Comments? Questions? Concerns? Review.**


End file.
